Critical Studies in Improvisation / Études critiques en improvisation, Vol 10, No 1 (2014) Retaining a New Format: Jazz-Rap, Cultural Memory, and the New Cultural Politics of Difference Jesse Stewart In the late 1980s and early 1990s, an influential strain of alternative hip-hop known as "jazz-rap" emerged.1 As the term implies, jazz-rap frequently incorporates elements of jazz, either through recorded samples or through live instrumentation. In addition, jazz-rap is often characterized by politically oriented, socially progressive lyrics. This essay examines the jazz-rap trend of the early 1990s, focusing in particular on early recordings by jazz-rap pioneers Stetsasonic, Gang Starr, and Guru, and on the 1994 compilation album Stolen Moments: Red Hot + Cool and the roughly contemporaneous film of the same name, both of which document a historic convergence of hip-hop and jazz musicians in support of AIDS research. Jazz Things: Early Developments in “Jazz-Rap” Dialogue between jazz and hip-hop cultures has a lengthy history that goes back at least as far as jazz pianist Herbie Hancock’s 1983 collaboration “Rockit” with hip-hop DJ Grand Mixer D.St. However, it wasn’t until 1988 that hip-hop artists began to incorporate elements of jazz into their recordings in a sustained way. One of the first groups to do so was Stetsasonic, widely regarded as one of the first hip-hop bands in that they featured not only MCs and a DJ, but also drums and keyboards in some incarnations. In 1988, Stetsasonic released “Talkin’ All That Jazz,” which references jazz both musically and lyrically. The piece is structured around a sample of Cecil McBee’s bass line from Lonnie Liston Smith’s funky soul-jazz classic “Expansions,” released on a 1974 album of the same name. The lyrics of “Talkin’ All That Jazz” were a response, in part, to a conversation between writer Nelson George and percussionist James Mtume that was broadcast on New York’s KISS-FM in 1988. During the interview, Mtume—who had first risen to prominence as a percussionist with Miles Davis in the 1970s, recording on On the Corner and other albums of the period—criticized rap music, focusing in particular on rap’s reliance on sampling: “this is the first generation of African-Americans not to be extending the range of the music” he disparaged, claiming that sampling rendered hip- hop artless, nothing but “Memorex music” (qtd. in George 89). In response, the lyrics of ““Talkin’ All That Jazz” take aim at Mtume, and any would-be critics of hip-hop culture, forcefully declaring the music’s status as art.2 Of particular interest in the present context are the multiple signifying roles that jazz plays in “Talkin’ All That Jazz.” On one hand, the piece posits a connection between Stetsasonic’s music and jazz in making the case for rap as art, but at the same time, the song asserts rap’s originality: Stop, check it out my man This is the music of a hip-hop band Jazz, well you can call it that But this jazz retains a new format. As Richard Shusterman notes in his extended analysis of the piece, The band accepts its identification with jazz, as the most respected black cultural form and tradition to which hip-hop is genealogically attached. But the acceptance is somewhat hesitant. For rap does not want to be seen as a mere variety of jazz, not even of progressive jazz; it rather insists on its originality. Rap’s jazz, unlike standard jazz already appropriated by the establishment, “retains a new format,” sustains novelty and freshness by maintaining a closer link to changing popular experience and vernacular expression[.] (Pragmatist 220) Thus, the phrase “retains a new format” encapsulates the complex and conflicted relationships between jazz and hip- hop cultures that lie at the heart not only of this piece, but also of jazz-rap generally. Although hip-hop may retain certain musical features and conceptual frameworks associated with jazz and other Afrological forms—notably an emphasis on improvisation, quotation, Signifyin[g] revision, cyclical rhythm, and call and response—hip-hop clearly constitutes a new musical format that extends the range of Afrological creative expression, even as it memorializes its musical past. 1 Critical Studies in Improvisation / Études critiques en improvisation, Vol 10, No 1 (2014) The ambiguity of the relationship between Stetsasonic’s music and jazz is reinforced in their video of “Talkin’ All That Jazz”: directed by old-school hip-hop Renaissance man Fab Five Freddy, it received airplay on Yo! MTV Raps, a program that began airing in 1988, the year the audio track of “Talkin’ All That Jazz” was released. With the lyrics “Jazz, well you can call it that,” the setting in the video changes from a New York City street scene to the interior of a club where musicians clad in suits, black berets, and sunglasses—all signifiers of modern jazz in this context—play upright bass and drum set.3 However, they are not the only performers on stage: Prince Paul, dressed in the same attire as the other musicians, plays turntables with the group, thereby providing a visual reminder that Stetsasonic’s jazz “retains a new format.” The video further inflects our understanding of the connections between jazz and hip-hop cultures through the inclusion of film fragments taken from Mura Dehn’s footage of Savoy Ballroom dancers shot in the 1950s.4 Interspersed with scenes of the jazz-club interior and footage of the rappers performing in the street, the acrobatic moves of the lindy hoppers remind the viewer that the improvised physicality of the toprock, downrock, and power moves of hip-hop b-boys and b-girls also have precedents in earlier Afrological forms. In response to the widespread criticism of digital sampling (of which Mtume’s radio diatribe was but one example),5 Stetsasonic offers the following defense: Tell the truth, James Brown was old 'Til Eric and Rak came out with "I Got Soul" Rap brings back old R&B And if we would not, people could've forgot. The reference here is to Eric B and Rakim’s “I Know You Got Soul” from their groundbreaking 1987 record Paid in Full, an album that played a pivotal role in precipitating hip-hop’s enduring preoccupation with James Brown samples.6 Stetsasonic emphasizes the important role that hip-hop sampling plays in memorializing the musical and cultural past, exposing younger generations of listeners to the rich legacy of Afrological forms. But “Talkin’ All That Jazz” goes further in asserting the importance of hip-hop sampling to processes of cultural memorialization, and in its challenge to the cultural establishment surrounding hip-hop culture: And what we sample of is a majority But you’re a minority in terms of thought Narrow-minded and poorly taught About hip-hop aims; all the silly games To erase my music so no one can use it. By claiming the music they sample constitutes a majority, they acknowledge the worldwide fecundity and influence of Afrological forms, and situate hip-hop culture within this continuum. In contrast, they declare would-be critics of hip- hop, those who would deny its status as art, a “minority in terms of thought,” thereby inverting the discursive power dynamics surrounding hip-hop at the time. Stetsasonic also criticizes the efforts of the cultural establishment to erase their music “so no one can use it.” This prescient statement suggests that the processes of musical and cultural memorialization evident in “Talkin’ All That Jazz,” and in hip hop sampling generally, will continue in the future. In much the same way that Stetsasonic’s music draws on earlier Afrological forms—on jazz in particular—their music issues a call to future generations of musicians to remix, remember, and retain “a new format.” Stetsasonic was not alone in their explorations of jazz in the late 1980s. In 1989, the hip-hop duo Gang Starr, consisting of rapper/lyricist Guru and DJ Premiere, released their first single: “Words I Manifest.” In addition to samples of James Brown’s “Bring it Up (Hipster’s Avenue)” and Big Daddy Kane’s “Word to the Mother(Land),” “Words I Manifest” features a prominent sample of Charlie Parker’s classic 1946 recording of “A Night in Tunisia.” The piece begins with the lyrics I profess and I don't jest cause the words I manifest They will take you, sedate you, and I will stress 2 Critical Studies in Improvisation / Études critiques en improvisation, Vol 10, No 1 (2014) Upon you the need for, you all to feed your Minds and souls, so you can lead your Self to peace. I got a real objective here. Guru’s “real objective”: to encourage the feeding of minds and souls, stood in marked contrast to the dominant themes of gangsta rap that, in 1989, were beginning to influence hip-hop cultures on both coasts of the United States. Just as the name of the group—Gang Starr—signifies on the terms “gangster” and “gangsta,” the duo’s music at the time provided an alternative to the all-too-often violent and misogynist lyrics of gangsta rap, encouraging instead the development of “knowledge, wisdom, understanding,” to quote another line from “Words I Manifest.” References to jazz played an important role in articulating the group’s socially conscious message. The sample of “A Night in Tunisia” in “Manifest” is just one example among many in Gang Starr’s early discography. DJ Premiere’s frequent use of jazz bass lines, horn shots, and piano riffs (in addition to sampling staples such as James Brown and The Meters) created a jazz-oriented alternative to both the stripped-down, bass-heavy production style associated with emergent forms of West Coast gangsta rap and the densely layered aesthetic of Public Enemy’s production team, the Bomb Squad.7 Premiere remembers: “During the time I started making beats, a lot of people were using James Brown, which I was too.